Natural Born Sinner
by cherryvanillaaa
Summary: The Comedian has addictions too, and they include more than just cigars and violence.
1. Let him first cast a stone

The day had crawled by, and the commute home had crawled even more. All she wanted after a long work week was to be holed up in her apartment with a book, something hot to drink and a warm bubble bath. Maybe that's what she would do tonight - she thought of this as she exited the bus at the stop on the corner. She waved at the driver as she walked down the stairs through the open doors, and he'd crooned at her to have a nice weekend, Michelle.

It was still raining, like it had been the whole day - lately, that seemed to be the only thing Mother Nature wanted to do. Maybe she was sad, Michelle pondered as she crossed the first of three blocks that would lead to her apartment. She didn't have her umbrella with her - it sat idly next to her swivel chair in her cubicle at work, probably still damp from this morning. That was okay though, she didn't mind the rain. And it wasn't like she'd be seeing anyone else tonight anyways. This rain would no doubt frizz her hair in some ungodly way. If it wasn't so damn cold outside - mid October in the city was not at all it was cracked up to be - she probably would have even considered jumping in the puddles. But she didn't. She probably would've ruined her heels - which would've been a big upset.

As she neared her apartment complex entrance, she reached into her pocket to fish around for her front door key. Tiptoeing up the steps to the door in her black high heels, she noted that the lock had been broken. Hmm, no use for the key then. Swinging her long black hair over one shoulder, she simply pushed the door open and stepped inside, attempting to close it behind her to the best of her ability. This was not uncommon - happened all the time. She thought nothing of it as she unzipped her coat, shaking it off during her trek up the stairs to her tiny apartment. Rounding the corner to the right, she did, however, think it was odd that her door was open.

This meant one of two things. Someone was robbing her place, or he was there.

"Shit," she stated. Her unladylike mouth tended to get her in trouble more often than not, but she knew that if he was actually in her apartment then he would be very amused by it. Slowly, she crossed the short span of floor to her front door. She noted that the lock was not broken, the door was merely propped open. Even slower, she reached out and pushed the door open, waiting to see what awaited her inside of her apartment.

Nothing.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Her apartment was the same as it always was; a little messy, smelled a bit like the candle she'd accidentally left burning all last night. No lights on, so she couldn't be sure someone wasn't hiding in the shadows. However, she was sure that he wasn't there, because if he was, he wouldn't be hiding from her. He'd probably be sitting right in her favorite chair in front of the TV, smoking a cigar, one ankle propped up on his knee as he waited for her to come home.

In fact, the only difference she noted was the faint trace of that cigar smoke in the air. The further she walked in, turning on lights as she went, the more she could smell it. She glanced back at the door warily, eyes roving for anything that could have been out of the ordinary. Had he been here? She didn't smoke, so it wasn't a normal smell that was prevalent in her space... Unless he showed up, of course. Then the smell overtook everything. If he had been here, he wasn't now, she concluded. She'd gone through every room, turned on every light, and there was no other trace of anyone having been there. If he had been here, he was gone now.

Michelle allowed herself to relax for the first time since she got home, sure that she was alone in here. She went over to her front door and made sure it was locked - maybe she'd not locked it properly when she left for work in the morning. Doubt clouded her mind at that thought - she always made sure the door was locked completely when she left her place. Don't worry, there's no one here. She let that thought settle in her mind, trying to let it comfort her. Maybe she was just imagining the smell in the air as well; maybe the thought of him was playing tricks on her like a ghost.

After unloading herself - taking her coat off and hanging her purse up on the coat rack, toeing her shoes off - she immediately went into the bathroom to start drawing herself a bath. That was her goal for this evening: absolute relaxation.

Once the water had run warm and filled up the tub, she added a lavender smelling liquid soap to it and stripped off her clothes, eager to jump into the nice smelling concoction. She pinned up her long hair, thinking how sad it was that she was excited to sit here and soak for the remainder of the evening. But, she needed to majorly de-stress, and this was the best way to do it.

She stepped into the soapy water, sinking down into it with a sigh. Leaning her head back against the porcelain edge of the tub, she closed her eyes for the first time all day.

Not even a minute had passed when she heard a noise from outside her front door. Footsteps, heavy ones. She opened one eye, listening hard. It was probably someone passing by to get to another apartment. From her bathroom she had a direct view to her front door when the door was open. Since she lived alone, she never bothered closing it. She noted a shadow underneath the door from the hallway that wasn't moving - somebody was definitely outside her door, hovering there.

Michelle had seen enough movies to know that she was no way in hell going to call out. That was a sure-fire way to get murdered. She waited in the tub to see if they would leave. The shadow shifted once, followed by a metal clanking noise. It took her a moment to realize that whomever it was was attempting to pick the lock. Now the panic started to set in. Did they know someone was in here? Did they care?

She thought of the smell of the cigar smoke from earlier. Was he outside the door right now, picking the lock? She rose up from out of the water, the soapy suds dribbling down her naked body. She reached for the towel hanging on the rack bolted to the wall next to the tub, wrapping it around herself while stepping out of the water. The clanking from the front door continued, and she quickly cut through the door that led to the bathroom, heading for the kitchen. Her thought was on the giant breadknife that lay dormant in her kitchen cabinet - if she could get to that at least she'd have something.

Halfway there, her door swung open, and instead of freezing in her tracks she took off in a run towards the dark kitchen to her left. She heard the door slam and footsteps thunder towards her just as she slipped into the kitchen. Quick as lightning, she yanked the drawer open and grabbed the massive breadknife, whipping around to point it towards her assailant just as they were about to grab her.

Much to her (non) surprise, he stood behind her. The Comedian himself, Edward Blake. He gave a huff of amusement at the sight of her holding the knife, pointed right at him. "Baby, if I knew this was gonna be the welcoming committee, I woulda come a helluva lot sooner," He winked at her with one of his grins that could put city lights to shame. His problem was that he was handsome, and he knew it. Many a woman had fallen for that smile, those eyes that could stare right through you; he was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome. The devil in disguise. Many a woman, including her.

The difference here was that while she'd fallen for that charm, she wasn't stupid enough to believe him and put up with his shit. She knew the kind of man he was, which was why she tried to avoid him at all costs.

It was a lot harder to avoid him, though, when he did things like this - this wasn't the first time he'd broken into her apartment, unannounced. It just had been a while; a few months. The last time she'd seen him was about three weeks ago (not that long), and it hadn't been in her apartment. Then, he'd visited her at work... after hours, and hadn't let her leave until he'd gotten what he'd wanted.

Still standing with a tense posture, she did lower the knife, but didn't put it down on the counter, "Eddie, you're not supposed to be here,"

"Says who?" He eyed her up and down, noting how she was still dripping wet from leaping out of her warm bath at the speed of light. There was a puddle pooling on the cracked kitchen floor by her feet - the rapidly cooling water was now touching her toes as the slope of the floor caused the liquid to roll towards her bare feet.

She could not deny, though she knew how wrong this was, that she felt a twinge of excitement upon seeing him. And she knew how wrong it was, completely and wholly. She always wished Eddie was a better man - if he had been, she could honestly say she would have had no problem with this. Hell, she probably would've gotten down on one knee and proposed to him.

"Says me," Now she did put the knife down on the counter behind her, crossing her arms at him, "I told you not to come here."

"Yeah," he sighed, taking his heavy swaggering steps towards her, one hand reaching up to stroke the scruff on his chin, "But we both know you didn't mean it."

She made herself stand her ground as he came near - it took all of her strength to keep her feet planted on the ground. "I did mean it, and I mean it right now when I say: Get out." He stopped uncomfortably close to her - she could feel the heat radiating off of his large body, smell the musk coming from him as he towered over her. There was tension in the air as he looked down at her, pondering her statement with a smirk. His eyes were dark and smoldering beneath the mask covering them; the mask did nothing to diminish their devious intensity. "You can't push me around."

He chuckled, like this was funny, "Sure I can," He grabbed onto her damp, bare shoulders and pushed her back against the counter. Her lower back hit it firmly enough to startle her. If this was any other situation with him - if he was actually a good man, she could have stood to play this game with him. But she couldn't do this because it was him - he had to go now.

"Eddie," There was an edge to her voice, but it didn't come out as harsh as she wanted it to, "Don't," She pushed her hands against his chest, which was protected by the hard bullet proof vest that he wore with the rest of his costume. Her push, which was rather flimsy, she noted with annoyance, did nothing to him. She chalked it up to her being nervous - she knew what was going to happen, and she knew there was a point where she was going to stop protesting.

"Honey, I'm not gonna hurt'cha," He nuzzled his face into her hair, cradling her now so that her head was under his chin, her lips inches from his throat. She wanted to bite the skin of his neck, wanted to kiss it, lick it, tear into it with her teeth. She wouldn't let herself unwind from this rigid posture - she feared that if she did, the motions would all come back full force, and she would lost herself to this lust that he brought out of her.

"I just missed ya is all," Big, warm hands cradled her jaw, trying to lift her face so she would look at him, "C'mon baby girl,"

God, that voice was her undoing. Deep, hot drawl that poured out of him like molasses. She could feel the vibration of his chest against her hands, rumbling with each word he spoke. Oh, hell. She tried to keep her face away from his, but those calloused palms could be so strong yet so gentle at the same time. He managed to lift her face, tilting her head back with skill. She turned her cheek as he leaned in for a kiss, his scruffy beard grazing her cheek as did his lips. Undeterred, his mouth continued to kiss down to the crook of her neck, and she felt his tongue lap at droplets of water that still clung to her bare skin. She balled her hands into fists against the hard covering on his chest, resisting the urge to wrap her arms around his waist. He kissed a warm trail down to her shoulder, having to lean down the farther he went. As if he'd been thinking that at the same time as she, he suddenly gripped his hands onto her towel clothed waist and hoisted her up to sit on the countertop behind her. This swift motion caused the top of her towel to unravel from her chest, leaving her exposed to the chilly air. Her nipples hardened in the coolness, and his administrations were not helping as he stood between her legs and trapped her there, hands stroking her thighs and mouth working all over her neck and shoulders. She did let out a moan, a quiet one that escaped her throat, when he knelt down so his mouth could reach her exposed breasts. The heat between her legs was molten with desire, burning hot with want that she knew wasn't going to go away. She banged her head back against the cabinet on the wall behind her when he tugged on a nipple with his teeth. She didn't even realize her hands were in his hair until he hissed at a particularly hard pull, and she tilted her head to look down at him.

"Not that I don't enjoy the fight you put up, but," Those large hands fumbled with untying the rest of the towel and getting it off of her, "I don't know why y'even bother when you know you're just gonna wind up on your back begging me Eddie, Eddie please-"

With a glare and a surge of energy, she shoved at his chest with her feet, pushing him back away from her. He landed on his back with a huge thud that shook her entire kitchen, pots and pans rattling in their cabinets and under the stove. Jumping down from the counter top, she clutched at the towel in her hands, bringing it up to cover her chest once more. She reached back and snatched the knife up off the counter, pointing it at him as he started to sit back up with a growl.

"No," she stated firmly, swallowing down as much of the arousal as she could. Eddie sat up a little off the floor, leaning on his elbows as he watched her brandish the knife at him. "You need to go. Don't make me say it a third time."

"Awww, 'Chelle," He smiled at her like he thought she was cute, that megawatt grin lighting up the dark kitchen, "Put that damn thing away, honey, only person you're gonna hurt is yourself."

She took a step closer, jaw clenched (as well as her thighs), "You know damn well I know how to use this - I'm not fucking around, Eddie, I want you to-"He lunged up at her suddenly, and she let out a shriek as she jumped back, still holding the knife steadily out in front of her as he leapt to his feet. "Jesus Christ!" One hand clutching her towel closed over her chest, her hand that held the knife trembled ever so slightly as she kept it pointed at him, "Just stop it already, would you please?!" He had that look in his eyes he got when he was about to do something bad - that sick light in his dark iris's that meant he was more than willing to take her even with the knife still clutched between her fingers.

Instead of acting upon whatever he'd been thinking about doing, he relaxed his posture and reached a hand up to smooth his hair out of his face. He sighed, "Believe it or not sweetheart, I'm not here for a fight. I miss you - I wanted to see you." The words sounded foreign, awkward coming from him. The Comedian rarely got sentimental, rarely got serious unless he was pissed off. She almost felt uncomfortable hearing him say them, as much as he himself was saying them.

She swallowed thickly again at his low voice as it crawled over her flesh like a warm breath of air. She didn't let herself loosen her grip on the knife. "You broke into my apartment - into my building."

"Okay," He held up one large hand, palm facing out towards her, "That was like that when I got here, then I had to rush on up here and make sure you were okay, but you weren't home. And I wouldn't have to break in if you didn't keep changing the damn locks."

She stared at him in outrage, "I never gave you a key!"

"You left a spare lying out on the fucking coffee table - what else were ya gonna do with it?"

"I wasn't gonna give it to you! Not everything is yours for the taking!"

"'Course it ain't," There was that grin again. God, he was going to be the death of her. "That's why when you want something, y'gotta take it."

Instead of arguing with him further, she shook her head, "You're fucking insufferable."

"And you love me for it," He winked at her, taking a step closer, not caring about the potential danger of the knife she held. She raised it at him in warning - she would not be swayed by his charm. Looking down at the blade like how one would look at a flower, the man before her tilted his head to one side before his eyes once again rose to meet hers. Then, "Were you takin' a bath before I came in?" The tone of his inquiry was general curiosity laced with suggestiveness - which meant that she should not answer this question. She didn't give him any indication that she'd heard him, but that didn't seem to deter him from his goal... Whatever it was at the moment. "Well hell, doll, don't let me stop ya! You know what, I've got a great idea: Why don't I join you? I'm feelin' real dirty right now..."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but he was already turning and heading towards her bathroom - her very tiny bathroom that could barely fit one person, let alone the both of them. He himself was the size of two and a half people - tall and broad, and his costume just added to his bulk. Still clutching the knife, she followed him, stepping carefully over the trail of costume he was leaving behind. She had half a mind to pick up all the pieces and throw it all out the window, but she didn't want to give him a reason to be walking around naked in her apartment. At least if everything was here, she could maybe chuck it all out in the hallway and shove him out with it. Maybe. Her heart stopped when she saw his pants lying in the doorway to the bathroom, and she gulped despite herself. "Eddie..." she warned, knowing the sight that would await her when she rounded the corner - she steeled herself for what she would see.

The sight before her she was sure would be the death of her, if nothing else he did quite did the trick. The Comedian was laying in her bathtub, which was not big enough for him, and he was naked. He scrubbed at the black paint around his eyes with the soapy water - he didn't seem to mind the girly scent. Everything was off - his clothes, his gloves, his mask. There were no weapons in sight, so unless they were submerged under the water with the rest of him, they were lying dormant on the floor with the rest of his costume. He cupped his large hands in the water to gather some, and poured it over his head, smoothing back his damp hair. God Almighty. He had to leave now before he caused her to do something she would regret.

"C'mon, 'Chelle, I need help gettin' my back. You know there's that one spot I can't ever reach,"

"No, what you need to do is go, please,"

"Please, please, please, so Goddamn polite," He plucked her purple loofah off of the hook it had been hanging on suctioned to the side of the shower. "You're even polite when my tongue is in your pussy." He chuckled at the thought, squeezing her loofah between his hands so the soap suds spilled over his fingers, "'Oh Eddie, please, oh unnh please...'"

She tried her best to ignore what his words did to her. She didn't know what to do - he wasn't going to leave and her resistance was fading. Her conscience was even whispering Just give him what he wants, what you want and he'll go. But every time she did, it was harder to let him go.

She knew she wasn't the only one this whole situation was hard on.

Her lack of words caused him to look over in her direction, dark eyes trailing up her towel clothed body before meeting her own. He seemed to sense her conflict (which wasn't difficult given their past), and he stood up out of the water.

She'd been right about the whole 'no clothes' part. That was for certain.

Her mouth watered at the sight of him, much like the water that cascaded down his naked body as he stood there. She didn't stop her eyes from roaming; she couldn't. He extended a hand out to her, one long leg lifting over the edge of the porcelain to step out of the claw foot tub. Water dripped off his body onto the floor mat beneath him, and it wasn't long before he stood right in front of her once more. Her eyes were on his chest - where her eye level pointed directly since he was so tall. She focused on the hard muscle beneath the skin, a protective layer of fat covering the muscle - he was dense and warm, the kind of body that you wanted to cuddle up to; the kind of chest that you wanted to fall asleep on. She didn't want to look in his eyes - instead she focused on the dark hair on his chest that the water droplets clung to - the hair that traveled down and down and down - No, she wasn't going to look there, either.

"Where'd all that fire go?" he murmured, his voice low and sensual. It was said so quietly that she wasn't even sure if he was talking to her or of if he was commenting to himself. She felt his fingertips graze the backs of her hands, then close around her clenched fists, including the one still holding the giant breadknife. From there his hands stroked a line all the way up to her elbows where he lifted her limbs and placed them around his neck. It was so much harder not to look at him now - she had to keep her head tilted downwards. "'Chelle," She closed her eyes to keep from looking up into his. His hands were on her face then, gently but firmly tilting her head back. She knew what was coming, and she knew once she hit a certain point she was going to stop protesting - she wouldn't want to say no, wouldn't want to tell him to leave.

When she felt his lips touch hers, she knew that point had come. There was no going back now.

 **Hiiiiii so here's some JDM love, because we've all got the fever 3**

 **I hope everyone enjoys! Thank you all who read/follow - you guys give me life!**


	2. Don't try to stop me now

Eddie Blake was a lot of things, good and bad. Good fighter, bad loser. Good looking as all hell, bad sonofabitch when you got to know him. Good hero...? For the most part - he cared a lot about justice, even if he tended to handle his strengths with malicious intent. Good promise keeper, good with a gun, good at doling out 'justice'; bad team player, strong, smart, charming, resourceful, brutal, uncompromising, merciless...

And, unfortunately, for any woman who happened to cross paths with him, he was _damn_ good at seduction.

His kiss was intoxicating, unyielding. She'd spent many a time with him drunk off his presence, his actions, his touch. He was like a shot of whiskey running through her veins, making her want more and more and more still. _Addicting._ His lips were simultaneously stealing the breath from her and breathing life back into her. God, she hated how much she wanted him.

She pushed her hands against his bare chest, the dark, coarse hair coating his front tickling the tips of her fingers. The push did nothing to move him - he was a solid wall of heat in front of her. She tried very hard not to kiss him back. It sounded silly. Right now it was like a physical urge - she felt like she would die if she didn't go forward with this. He was kissing her - his tongue curling along the seam of her lips, trying to get her to open them for him. He nibbled on her lips, sucking at them, his scruff abrading the soft skin of her face deliciously. The farthest she'd gone was to part her lips. She was having trouble breathing so heavily through her nose with his face against hers. He didn't seem to mind that she was not responding to his administrations. He just continued plowing on through, typical Eddie.

One of those large hands curled into her hair, tilting her head back so he could move onto her neck. She heard her heartbeat in her ears, felt it underneath his lips. He sucked on the area of her pulse point, gently taking it between his teeth. She couldn't stop her hands from gripping onto his waist - his very naked waist. She could feel him, hard and ready against her gut; ready for what would inevitably happen. _God_ she wanted him so bad. His other hand pulled at the back of her towel so that there would be nothing between them. "Eddie..." Her protest sounded weak even to her ears, "Don't, you gotta go,"

"No, baby," His voice was a low rumble against her ear, making her clench her legs even harder together. "You don't want that, I don't want that."

"I do, I want-"

She let out a yelp when she felt something unyielding thrust up into her care, without warning. Her legs nearly gave out underneath her; she clutched onto his waist, diffing her nails in.

He groaned into her hair, "Yeah baby, that's what I'm talkin' about," He worked that finger back and forth now, a little more gently after feeling how tight she was, "Wetter than the fuckin' ocean, just like always,"

"Eddie, stop," she whispered, her voice not carrying any authority whatsoever. She bit at his collarbone, scratching his lower back with one hand and grasping weakly at his wrist with the other. _Stop_ did not mean add a second finger to her heat, but that was what he did. _Stop_ did not mean continue to leave bite marks and scruff burn all over her neck. And it certainly didn't mean drag her back towards the tub full of water.

"Wait, wait," she panted, pushing both hands against his chest as he stepped back into the tub full of water. He withdrew his fingers from inside of her and gripped both hands onto her curvy waist, ready to hoist her in there with him. "Eddie." Ignoring her pleas, he lifted her up off the floor and into the tub with him. Even under the spell of lust she knew what a bad idea this was, and she tried to twist away from him, to get back out of the knee deep water. His hands didn't let her to, sliding up to her supple breasts to crush her back against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding against her back, feel the steel rod of his desire pressing against her backside.

"Sweetheart, why d'ya even bother fighting," She felt the deep reverberations from his voice rumble against her spine as he spoke against her shoulder. The hair follicles on his face scratched against her soft skin, making her want to grab him and kiss him. "You know what's gonna happen,"

" _No_ , no." It was hard to put her foot down when one of his hands was massaging her breasts and the other was creeping down her stomach towards the V between her legs.

"'Cuz it happens _every_ time. Ain't neither one of us gonna deny this. _Us._ You and me."

"..." She shook her head, trying to form the words in her mind. Any coherent thought besides ones of desire would have been helpful. "There _is_ no you and me- You and _I,_ Eddie, Christ you know how to speak English, don't you?" she gasped out, feeling one of his large fingers start stroking torturously between her legs.

"'Chelle, you know that's bullshit," The hand that had been on her breasts slid up to her throat, tilting her head back gently so she was leaning it back on his right shoulder. "And don't be using your fancy schmancy English degree on me, ain't nobody in this city's better'n anyone else."

The finger between her legs stopped suddenly, giving her a moments reprieve. "Oh, that's right," Came his voice in her ear, a smile that she could hear even in his words, "You didn't get your fancy fuckin' degree - you dropped out. You're a rebel, just like me."

She rolled her eyes, finally gaining control over her primary motor functions, "I'm _not_ like you, Eddie," She was still panting, damn him. It didn't help that he clutched her to him so tightly. If he didn't, though, he knew she'd try and slip away again.

"Sure ya are," he chuckled, kissing her temple, "You're a freak. It's not an insult, doll,"

"I'm _not_ ," she protested, thought she wanted to turn around and curl into him, wrap her arms around his waist _. "I_ didn't try to rape Sally Jupiter."

Instead of the reaction she had been anticipating - one of anger - he sighed, woefully. "Baby, you know I wasn't gonna hurt her."

"But you _did,_ Eddie," The strength was coming back into her voice because now she was really angry. "You beat the shit out of her!"

"She started it," Was his reply. Like there was nothing to it. Like he didn't try and take what he thought, once again, was _his_ for the taking. Typical Eddie, thinking the world owed him something.

"It doesn't matter _who_ started it. What matters is that it even happened!"

"Why are we talkin' 'bout this now, huh?" Annoyed now, he slid two fingers inside of her once again, his thumb working at her clit. The top of her body wanted to bow forward, but his hand on her collarbone wouldn't let her. That same hand traced up her neck to cradle her jaw, and he nuzzled his face into her hair with an angry sigh. "We can be doin' _anything_ else right now,"

"I don't want to do _anything_ with you, ever," she groaned, trying to close her legs against his insistent fingers, "You're a murderer and a rapist and a- a- Just a bad fucking man, Eddie!"

She was sure that would set him off, and she would feel a sense of triumph at angering him. Instead, that same low chuckle that she heard in her dreams poured out of him like molasses. "Hun, I love when you sweet talk me," He pressed his hips into her backside, his still rock-hard arousal pressing into her ass cheeks. "Now do both of us a fuckin' favor and quit fuckin' bein' a bitch."

" _Fuck you,"_ she growled, throwing an elbow back against him, hoping to catch him in the jaw. He moved his head out of the way, quick as lightning, and because he was trained in the art of combat, he grabbed her arm with surprising speed with the hand that had been stroking her face. He held fast, not tight enough to hurt but tight enough to ensure that she couldn't try it again.

"Ohh no, sweetie pie," She could hear the grin in his voice, feel the glee leaking out of his depraved heart, "Fuck _you,"_

He pushed her face first into the peach colored tile wall, and she knew it was all over.

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **woooooo I want him, even if he's bad 3**


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